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Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #2185277
What would furniture say, if it could talk?
The executive desk chair sighed as it surveyed the quiet office. Reclining back, the leather arms sagged as it wallowed in desolation.

Weekdays were always full of exciting activity, phones ringing and staplers clacking as the workforce struggled to meet growing demand. But now there was nothing to fill the silence.

"Coming throooough!" A cheaply made computer chair whizzed through the doorway, spinning on its wheels. With a grumble, the leather chair reluctantly greeted the plastic intrusion.

"Hello Chaise. Glad to see you could make it."

Ignoring the heavy sarcasm, Chaise beamed as it rolled around the office. "Thanks Otto! Kinda tricky getting up to the fifth floor since the elevators’ down. Is that a new plant? Wowie, I wish Frank could have plants at his desk."

Chaise inspected the potted tree with great interest as a chair with pink cushions entered the room.

“Ah, Divan. I was hoping you would stop by.” Pleased, Otto waved cheerfully. Divan didn’t return the greeting, sniffing quietly.

Chaise turned to the weeping visitor and laid a comforting arm on her back. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“It’s Old Rocker. I saw them put him in the dumpster. He was doing his best, even with a broken wheel…” Divan sobbed as the other chairs sat in shocked silence.

One of Chaise’s wheels squeaked softly.

Sighing, Otto shook his headrest sadly. “I was looking forward to hearing another one of his stories… He always had something funny to say.”

Divan stopped crying and shared her favorite memory. “Remember when he tripped that new intern? They had to steam clean the carpet just to get the coffee stains out.”

Otto chuckled, recalling the animated way Rocker described the event.

“He was quite a character. I tried to transfer his spot up here so he wouldn’t have to travel from the first floor… But his pride wouldn’t let him.”

Divan sniffled again. “I think he knew his time was coming, he didn’t want to take a spot from some other chair that deserved it.”

Turning to Chaise, Otto noticed he was oddly quiet. “What’s wrong?”

The computer chair shrugged morosely. “You think he’s in a better place? What happens to us when our owners decide to get a new chair?”

Thoughtful silence filled the room as the furniture pondered the question.

Otto was the first to speak up. “I think there’s a place, an office where chairs of any shape or size are welcome.”

“Think he’ll be happy there?” Divan asked hopefully.

Otto crossed his armrests and nodded. “Absolutely. Rocker loves having an audience to tell his stories too.”

“I hope there’s no smelly butts either.” Chaise grimaced. “He always hated those.”

Shaking his headrest, Otto confirmed there were none of those. The chairs talked long into the night about the great office in the sky, dreaming of a corporate utopia.

Otto didn’t care that he made it all up. It felt good to make his friends happy, even if it was only for a weekend.

© Copyright 2019 I, Raven Scryer (rig0rm0rtis at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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